


Life At The End of The World

by Kiraly



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the first year of the rash illness, changes come to Dalsnes. Sigrun and Aksel must figure out how to live with them - and with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life At The End of The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yuuago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuago/gifts).



> Hello Rarepair recipient! I loved your letter; there were so many great ideas in there it was hard to choose! I got especially inspired by your thoughts about the prologue characters, so here's the result. I hope you like it!
> 
> Many thanks to my Minutia_R for beta reading! And for putting up with my various neurotic "what if it's totally obvious this was written by me??" conversations while I anxiously waited for the fics to be revealed. ^_^

 

Three months after the end of the world, Sigrun Larsen still couldn’t believe she was stuck with these assholes.

Sure, they were also her best friends—even if they hadn’t been before, fending off creepy monsters and scrambling to stay alive had a way of bringing people together—and she honestly _could_ say she was closer to them than she was to anyone. As far as she knew, there was no one else left to be close to.

None of that made them any less annoying, though. The apocalypse changed people, but not completely, and not overnight. Gøran still talked too much about crossword puzzles and his stupid beard—which he allowed to grow wild, “like one of our Viking ancestors!”—even as he made arrangements to reinforce the fences and started plans for a sea wall. Ingrid actually _couldn’t_ do the job she’d been assigned. She was too laid-back to enforce the guard rotation; people walked all over her. And then one of the twisted creatures from the woods really _did_ walk all over her, along with two others. Ingrid got lucky—she recovered. But she was still in quarantine when the rest of town gathered around two funeral pyres, and after that they kept her back on cooking duty. So Sigrun got the thankless task of forcing people to stand in the cold for hours, watching for the next threat.

Which brought her into constant contact with the biggest thorn in her side: Aksel Eide, doting grandson and total incompetent. From Sigrun’s perspective, the most useful thing he’d done since the rash struck was actually bringing his grandmother to Dalsnes. Berit Eide had come as a pleasant surprise. She was, contrary to Sigrun’s fears, _not_ a crazy old person, but a retired field hospital nurse who had more survival skills than the rest of them put together. She could shout down the more absurd suggestions—like Gøran’s idea to set the whole forest on fire to flush out the monsters—and then turn around and console the terrified teenager who was certain they were all doomed. Plus, she was the best shot in town.

Unfortunately, her grandson didn’t take after her. Despite Berit’s best efforts, Aksel was still hopeless with a gun, and was more likely to panic and shoot straight into the air than to aim. He found reasons to worry about _everything_ , which led both the supply and building teams to suggest he find a different role. And he had sharp eyes and quick reflexes—most of the time—which meant Sigrun got stuck with him.

“I’m glad I have guard duty with you tonight,” Aksel said, tucking his rifle under his arm so he could rub some warmth back into his hands. “Not that I mind the others, of course, but...sometimes I think they make fun of me when I’m not around.”

The other sentries on this shift _did_ make fun of Aksel. So did Sigrun.

“I don’t know why you think I’m any better,” she grumbled, “I make fun of you to your face.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “And get that gun back in your hands before you shoot my eye out!”

Aksel hurried to shift his weapon to a better position. “Sorry. And...I know you do, but at least you’re honest about it. Everyone else acts nice, but I can tell they’re just taking pity on me.”

“That, or they’re wondering how such a puppydog managed to survive this long,” Sigrun said. Aksel’s face fell, and she laughed. “You’re doing it right now, you look just like a dog with its tail between its legs! But hey, it could be worse. The others could beat you up, instead of talking about you.”

Aksel sighed. “Wow, that’s comforting.”

Sigrun patted his shoulder. “Anything to help. And speaking of help, you’re still holding your weapon like it’s going to explode any second. I’m sending you back to Berit for another training session.”

Seriously, that hang-dog expression of his was _so_ annoying. He had no right to be so...so _cute_ when the world was in chaos and everyone else was either dying or turning into hardened survival machines.

“Grandma will be so disappointed,” Aksel said, “Even her cat is more useful than I am, it killed three rat monsters last week.” He stamped his feet to warm them, but stopped when Sigrun sent him a _look._ “I’m still glad we have guard duty together, though. You always look out for me, even if I am hopeless.”

“You’re not completely hopeless until you’re dead,” Sigrun said. Even if he _was_ so close to hopeless that he drove her crazy. With a sigh, she reached over to fix his grip on the gun.

* * *

 

A year after the end of the world, Aksel Eide still couldn’t believe his luck. He was still alive—despite waking up every day expecting to die—and so were the people he loved most. They hadn’t managed outside radio contact in ages, but that was a small worry in the sea of anxiety about the state of the world, not something personal. He’d never had to wait by the radio hoping for news of his loved ones. Everyone he cared about was already here.

He still thanked his lucky stars—and, more practically, Gunnar, until Gunnar told him to stop—that his grandmother had made it safely to Dalsnes. He could look out for her here. In such a close-knit community, other people could look out for her too—if something happened to her, help would arrive in a matter of minutes. And his job as a sentry meant he was protecting her all the time, even if she insisted she didn’t need protection.

Aksel was grateful for his friends, too; after all they’d been through, they were practically family. He spent less time with Gøran and Ingrid these days, what with their different jobs and growing interest in each other, but he knew they’d be there for him if he needed them. Gunnar was around more, now that his leg injury kept him from taking the boat out. And of course, he had Sigrun.

Sigrun Larsen was the one bright spot in this nightmare. If someone had told Aksel a year ago that he’d get to spend most of his waking hours with her, he wouldn’t have believed it. If he’d told anyone, even his closest friends, that sentry duty with Sigrun was the best part of his day, they probably wouldn’t have believed _him._ But it was true. He’d been half in love with her for years, anyway, long before the rash. And now, well...he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have at his side. If only he could work up the nerve to actually _tell_ her.

“What are you fretting about _now?”_ Sigrun demanded, scowling up at him. She wore so many sweaters she looked stuffed, but her head was bare so nothing would impede her sight or hearing.

Aksel reluctantly lowered his hood to mirror her, wincing as rain soaked through his hair. “I just don’t know how wise it is to go out past the fence. Especially with so many people—”

Sigrun snorted. “You mean, with so many people _including your grandmother,_ don’t you? Look, we’ve been over this. She _has_ to go. No one else knows what to look for.”

“It’s not just that, it’s—”

“Relax, Aksel. The foraging team will be fine. They’ll stay quiet, and if anything happens, we’ll be there to protect them. Won’t we?”

Aksel sighed and shouldered his rifle. “I guess.”

“Right. Now that we have that settled, let’s meet up with the others and move out.”

Even with Sigrun’s assurances, Aksel couldn’t help sticking close to his grandmother as they left the safety of the compound. She smiled and patted his arm. “Something’s bothering you, Puppy. What is it?”

He ducked his head. “I’m just...a little worried, that’s all. What if we run into a troll?”

“Then we’ll shoot it and keep going,” she replied. She hefted her rifle for emphasis. “Or don’t you think your poor old grandma can aim?”

“Of course you can, I wasn’t saying you couldn’t! But it could sneak up on you, or, or...something.”

She smiled again, though not without a hint of sadness. “Well, if that happens, then I guess it’s just my time. But I’m not going to dwell on that, and neither should you.”

Aksel sighed. She was right, of course. “I know. Sigrun said the same thing. But I can’t seem to stop thinking about it. If something happened to one of you…”

“One of us?” Now his grandma’s tone was teasing. “Who else are you fretting about?” Her gaze flicked to the front of the group, where Sigrun consulted with a woman holding a map. “She’s even tougher than I am, silly birdie. With the two of you to protect me, I feel perfectly safe.”

Heat bloomed in Aksel’s cheeks. “Grandma! I didn’t mean—”

“Well, I think it’s perfectly nice,” she continued, ignoring his protests, “The two of you. The world may be in pieces, but life goes on.”

“Grandma, _please_.”

“And I can’t think of a better girl for you, honestly—”

“Grandma!” Aksel took a deep breath and leaned closer to whisper, “Can we _please_ not talk about my love life—not that I even have one—when we’re out in the woods where something could jump out and kill us?”

Grandma Eide shook her head. “All right. If we’re not talking about that, can I give you some advice?”

“Uh...sure.”

“Stop staring at me and keep your eyes on the trees. Something could jump out and kill us!”

* * *

 

Sigrun watched the treeline and tried not to fidget. It was hard to see anything through the steady rain, but she kept her eyes peeled anyway. All it would take was one moment of inattention to endanger the whole mission. At least she didn’t have to guard her back; they’d checked the barn and found no sign of trolls, so she could leave the foragers to do their job while she focused on hers. Hopefully the sentries posted on the other sides of the building were doing the same.

Beside her, Aksel hunched deeper into his coat. Strands of hair straggled out of the tail he’d pulled it into—like Sigrun’s, it had grown in the past year, since haircuts weren’t exactly a priority. That, combined with the pale scar on his chin from a skirmish some months ago, made him look a little like one of those Vikings that Gøran was always going on about. Then he glanced over at her, and his wistful expression ruined the effect.

“How much longer do you think it’ll take?”

Sigrun shrugged. “Hard to say. They were trying to take apart a tractor when I checked in. Might be able to turn it into some kind of distance weapon, or at least melt it down for sword metal—”

“Wait.” Aksel held up a hand. “Did you hear that?”

Sigrun strained her ears, heard nothing, but then—

_“HRRGRGRAARGREREEEEEE—”_

She lunged for the woods, but the sound wasn’t coming from there. _Other side._ She pivoted and darted around the corner—

_“HJJJAEEEEEEELLPPPKKKK—”_

—only to run right into the troll as it charged. She threw herself away before it could snag her with a claw—the thing had at least seven arms—rolled, and rose to her feet just in time for its next assault. Too close for the rifle. She slashed with her knife, severed one of the clawed limbs and sent it flying. It wasn’t enough. The troll loomed over her, reached with three arms at once—

_This is it. This is the one that gets me._

—she brought her knife around, knowing she was too late—

_At least I’m young enough to make a pretty corpse._

—shouting behind her, and then—

_CRACK_

The troll pitched backwards, roaring. Sigrun didn’t wait to see why—she drove her knife into its chest. A many-jointed arm swatted her away, but the blade struck home—

_THUMP_

She hit the ground hard. As she gasped for air, she blinked rain out of her eyes and saw the troll on the ground, writhing. A tall stalk protruded from it, flailing, with an incongruous patch of red on the top. Gradually her head cleared and she started to make sense of the stream of noise from the downed troll.

“ _Die! Go to hell you nasty piece of—”_

 _For the love of—that’s not part of the troll, that’s_ Aksel!

The tall stalk resolved itself into the shape of a man. He stood on top of the troll, stabbing it repeatedly in what remained of its head. A stream of profanity poured out of him.

Sigrun pushed herself into a sitting position with a grimace. Everything hurt, but nothing seemed to be broken. A long scratch on her right arm, but it wasn’t deep, and she’d proven herself immune to the rash months ago. Carefully, she pushed to her feet— _damn, I’m going to feel this tomorrow—_ and stumbled over to the carnage.

“Aksel.”

“—thrice-damned spawn of a—”

“AKSEL!” She grabbed his arm as he drew it back for another blow. “It’s dead.”

Aksel jerked, then stilled as the words sunk in. He turned to stare at her. “Dead?”

“Yes, Aksel. You killed it.” The events of the last few minutes replayed themselves in Sigrun’s head, and she added, “Also, I think you saved my life. Was that your shot?” It had to be—no one else had been behind her. The bullet hadn’t killed the troll, but it had driven it back at the crucial moment.

Aksel nodded, still staring. “It’s...dead...and you’re okay?” Gore dripped from his knife, and bits of troll were splattered all across his face and chest. He didn’t seem to notice.

Sigrun, on the other hand, couldn’t help noticing. _Holy shit. He looks completely insane._

_...and it’s totally hot._

There was no time to dwell on that thought, because the other sentries were there, and the rest of the team poured out of the building to see what was going on. Aksel was pulled one way and Sigrun another—his grandmother fussed over him, and everyone else started talking to Sigrun all at once. She had to explain what had happened and get the others moving; that was far more important than rehashing the troll attack. But as they walked back, she kept seeing the look on Aksel’s face when he realized the troll was dead. _Damn. I didn’t know he had it in him. Maybe he didn’t, either._

* * *

 

That night, Sigrun looked for Aksel and couldn’t find him. She’d meant to check on him earlier, but first she had to make sure everyone got back to town alive. Then she had to make her report about the troll attack, and then two of the people on night watch needed her to settle a dispute. By the time she sorted them out—”Quit whining and go do your damn jobs”—she was tired and cranky and _really_ wanted to get out of her wet clothes. But she had to find Aksel first, and for once he actually _wasn’t_ around. _Annoying. How does that man always manage to do the exact thing that’s most likely to piss me off?_

After a fruitless search of his usual haunts, Sigrun resorted to asking a group of the other off-duty sentries. “Where the hell is Aksel?”

One of the men snorted. “Heh. Probably off moping somewhere about those new scratches he picked up today. I swear, the guy’s totally soft. I think I saw him crying by the sea wall earlier.”

“Totally soft?” Sigrun narrowed her eyes.

“Well, he freaks out about _everything,_ and I heard he’s totally useless as a—hey!”

Sigrun grabbed a fistful of his sweater and dragged him up out of the chair. “Do you wanna say that again?”

“What the hell are you—”

“Listen up,” she growled, “and this goes for _all_ of you. Aksel Eide might be an anxious mess, but he shows up, does his job, and dammit, he _tries._ And you know what? He saved my life today, which is more than I can say for any of you.” She shoved the sentry back into his chair and turned away. “Also, in case you haven’t noticed? The world went to hell a year ago. If you don’t think that’s worth crying about, then you’re the one with a problem.” With that, she stomped back out into the rain.

* * *

 

She found him on the dock facing out to sea, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around himself. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were red, and she knew the wet marks on his cheeks were not a result of the weather.

“It’s raining a lot, huh?” she said.

Aksel let out a quavery chuckle. “Ahah. Yeah. Just rain, nothing worse than that.”

Sigrun stepped closer and slipped her arm into his. “You did a good job today. If it wasn’t for you, I...well...thank you.”

She felt him shiver even through all the fabric layered between them. When he didn’t say anything, she prompted, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Aksel shook his head, but after a moment he said, “I just...keep thinking.” He paused. She waited. He tried again. “I keep coming back to...well, I killed that thing. And it probably...as far as we can tell, it used to be a person.” He took a deep breath that was just shy of a sob. “I know that, and I feel awful. But, I...can’t feel as bad as I should. I’m sort of...glad. That I killed it.”

Despite her plan to stay quiet and let him talk, Sigrun snorted. “I’m glad too. It was the troll or me, Aksel. Look,” she turned him to face her, “I know it’s hard. But even if those creatures—monsters, trolls, rash-beasts, whatever—were people and animals once, they aren’t anymore. We don’t know how to help them. All we can do is stay alive.”

“I know.” Aksel sighed. “Of course, when I stop thinking about that, I start thinking about how easily we could all die, and that’s just as bad. It seems like no matter what I do, one of these days a troll will be faster than me, and someone I love is going to get killed because of it.”

Now it was Sigrun’s turn to sigh, and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. They were back to standard Aksel worries, it seemed. “Aksel, please. Your grandma wasn’t in any danger, that troll didn’t even get close to—”

“Grandma? No, that’s—” Aksel made a noise between a groan and a growl and caught her by the shoulders. “Dammit, Sigrun! I’m not talking about my grandma, I’m talking about _you._ I care about you, okay? When that troll nearly got you, all I could think was—I never told you, and you probably don’t feel the same way—but that doesn’t matter.” He loosened his grip and lowered his eyes. “When either of us could die any day, I can’t afford to wait. I know it’s stupid, falling in love at the end of the world, but...well, I can’t change how I feel.”

Something fluttered in Sigrun’s chest, though she wasn’t sure if it was her heart or her lungs or some other organ. She searched for appropriate words, but habit kicked in—the apocalypse changed people, but not completely—and what came out was, “You _would_ be crazy enough to fall in love with a total ass, wouldn’t you? I hope you know I’m still going to make fun of you when you do something dumb. Love won’t change that.”

Aksel met her gaze now, and his eyes held more hope than she’d seen in over a year. “Really? You...you love me too?”

Instead of answering, Sigrun wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

* * *

 

If a wave had swamped the dock and dragged him into the sea right then and there, Aksel would have died happy. As it was, he found himself _still_ happy and also very much alive. Sigrun kissed with all the force of an autumn gale, and he was perfectly willing to be swept along. Even when she pulled away, he only paused long enough to gasp for breath before plunging back in for more. They might have stayed there until the rain wore them away to nothing if Sigrun hadn’t dug her fingers into his injured side.

Aksel tried to cover his flinch and the hiss that escaped him, but Sigrun noticed.

“What was that?” She touched the spot again, more gently, but he couldn’t keep from shivering.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “Just a scratch, it’s fine—”

Sigrun narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so. This is from the troll today?” He nodded. Sigrun clapped a hand to her forehead. “Aksel! You can’t stand out in the rain for hours with fresh wounds, your bandages must be soaked by now! Come on.” She grabbed his arm and marched down the dock.

“Aahh, it’s really okay, they aren’t very deep—where are you taking me?”

“My place, obviously. It’s closer, and I’m not in the mood to deal with those assholes who live with you.”

“I live with my grandmother!” Aksel protested.

“Your grandmother and—what, _five_ other people? No. I’m dying to get out of these wet clothes anyway, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Sigrun’s apartment had been tiny by last year’s standards, but with people crowding Dalsnes for safety, having her own space was a luxury. A wave of heat greeted them as they stepped inside. “Bless Ingrid, she built up my fire again,” Sigrun said. She pulled her boots off, tipping water out of one, and peeled off her socks. “Ugh, wet clothes are the _worst!_ Aksel, don’t just stand there, let me see your scratches.”

He shrugged out of his coat and lifted his shirt, peeling the fabric from his skin. Sigrun ran her hands over the bandages and frowned. “Yeah, they’re wet. Sit down, I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He sat, and pulled his shirt all the way off when she asked. She cleaned and dressed the wounds, more gently than he would have expected from her. She started to put the bandages away, then hesitated.

“Actually...you should probably do mine, too. It’s not as bad, but there’s no sense in risking infection.”

When she had shed three layers of sodden sweaters, a process Aksel watched with interest, he took care of the shallow gash on her forearm. His hands lingered over the task, smoothing the fabric long after he was sure it would stay in place.

Eventually Sigrun pulled her arm away. “Well, if that’s taken care of, we should dry off before we get pneumonia. Get out of your wet clothes, I’ll grab a towel for your hair.”

Aksel blinked. “Get out of my clothes...and into…?” _Sigrun’s tiny, there’s no way her clothes will fit—_

A glint of mischief sparked in her eye. “Out of your clothes and into my _bed_ , dummy.” She brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “I’ll join you in a minute.”

Wet clothes or not, Aksel felt warm all the way down to his toes.

* * *

 

Later, Sigrun lay with her head on Aksel’s chest and listened to his breathing. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face and murmured her name. “Sigrun?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you think things will ever go back to how they used to be?”

Sigrun sighed and lifted her head. “Before the rash? No.” She trailed her fingers along the edge of his bandage, careful not to get too close to the wound. “Even if the illness was gone, even if there were no trolls...the world is different. We’re different. Scarred.”

Aksel planted a kiss on the top of her head. “Well. I guess that’s all right, then. Scars are a sign that we’re still alive.”

“Did you just...say something optimistic?”

He pulled back to frown at her. “Hey!” Then his face softened, and the worry lines melted away. “You really are a jerk, you know.”

Sigrun grinned. “I know. But hey, think of it this way—if we can make _this_ work, we can do anything.”

Aksel returned her smile. “The trolls don’t stand a chance.”

 


End file.
